


What She Thinks

by CaptainTarthister



Series: From Across the Room [7]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Advice, F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Sex Fantasy, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5504801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne is at her breaking point with wanting Jaime. There's more to why Jaime wants to wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm. So what will Brienne do? Stay tuned.

Sometime After the Events in Chapter 3 of The Things He Does

Sansa’s blue-gray eyes were round. “And?”

“And. . .” Brienne shrugged. “That’s what happened.”

The two women looked at each other and together, drank their respective glasses of red wine.

“Huh,” Sansa said.

Brienne uncorked the bottle and poured them a refill. “Is that odd?”

The two women were in Brienne’s kitchen. On Thursdays, they usually went out but it was too cold. Sansa lived in an apartment that looked out to the sea, making it a lot colder than Brienne’s place. So at Brienne’s invitation, she had packed up her things for an overnight stay. 

They sat facing each other on the counter, both of them wrapped in thick robes. Sansa was pink and fluffy. Her hair was a bright, rich auburn yet it did not clash with the color of her robe. Her round cheeks were a little pink from the wine—they were halfway through their first bottle. Brienne was in an old gray robe. Blue was her color but the gray brought out the brilliance of her eyes as well. She was red from forehead to her neck already.  
They have been talking about Brienne’s sort-of relationship with Jaime. Sansa was surprised when Brienne first told her about Jaime kissing her—she hadn’t thought they were seeing each other after her best friend told the blond asshat no. But it explained why Brienne scowled less and tend to joke around the staff more, though she was still serious for the most part. 

Sansa knew about Brienne’s virginity. Brienne regarded it a burden yet guarded it. Sansa understood. She would never know how it was to be ridiculed simply for looking the way one did—as if one had a choice—but this was the way of her life for Brienne. Sansa was beautiful, easily the most beautiful woman in any room, yet before she had her cherry popped, she guarded it fiercely too. She didn’t want to be a conquest. She wanted love and passion. Fortunately, her first boyfriend, a guy named Harry, was that. It had been his first time too. It was very awkward but they were laughing practically the whole time. In her later relationships, Sansa would look for that: being comfortable enough with each other to laugh during something as awkward as sex. And it could be awkward sometimes, she had learned.

In spite of Sansa sharing her experiences with Brienne, the latter still knew next to nothing. She was hesitant to date—the one time she did pre-Jaime, she told Sansa that she told the guy she was a virgin. He didn’t call again. “Did he think I was going to be in love with him just because he’s the first?” she had raged to Sansa, tears exploding from her eyes.

Sansa watched Brienne fill up their goblets. Jaime Lannister was still very much around. And according to Brienne, he had done lots of things to her and with her—wonderful, hot things. But they hadn’t done the deed yet. He wanted to take their time. He wanted to get to know her.

“No, I don’t think so,” Sansa answered. “Slow and easy seems to be norm now. Of course, there are still those who jump into the sack but different strokes for different folks.” She had to smile when Brienne’s cheeks pinked at the word `strokes.’

“And I think it’s sweet of him,” she added. “He’s in a god-like package and he’s all about making you feel good. That’s a rare man, Bree. I’d even go as far as to say that that kind of man is a myth but Jaime Lannister exists.”

“I want. . .I want him to fuck me.” Brienne took a sip of her wine. “I’ve told him several times but he still won’t.”

“And that frustrates you?”

“Well,” Brienne bit her lips reddened by wine. A smile began to tease the corners of her mouth. “He, uh, he does things.”

Sansa couldn’t resist teasing her. “He goes down on you?”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Among other things.” Sansa sipped her wine.

Brienne’s face heated. “Sometimes. . .sometimes. . .we do it. At the same time. To each other. But he’s hesitant letting me swallow.” She was never going to forget the first time Jaime had her straddle his face, positioning her cunt right over his mouth. She had felt big and awkward until he started lapping at her and fucking her with fingers. She lowered her mouth to close around his swollen cock and forgot about being big and awkward. Or the first time she touched herself, following his heated instructions, losing herself in his emerald eyes. In the aftermath she was a limp hang of arms and legs and could only watch with desire as Jaime stroked his cock roughly and spilled on her stomach and breasts. 

“Fuck me,” Sansa said, shaking her head in disbelief. “He’s all about your pleasure and he’s considerate too. He can’t be real, Bree. Gods, he can’t be.” She drained her goblet and refilled it. 

“How do I get him to fuck me, Sansa? It’s so hard because he makes me feel so good. And I know he wants it. I’ve seen it. Touched it. Tasted it. I want to make him forget about getting to know me better. We already know each other, you know what I mean? I just want him to think about fucking me and doing it.” The words spilled out in a rush, like a dam crashing through a wall. “How do I get him to do that?”

“He’s told you he wants to fuck you, right?”

“Gods, yes.” 

“Then you have to corner him. Put him in a position where he has no choice but to fuck you.”

Brienne scratched her head. “How do I, you know, get him into position? Like are you talking about a sex position?” It wasn’t the wine causing her to blush even more. Sansa suspected that by night’s end, there would be a whole new shade of red from Brienne. 

“No, sweetheart. I mean you put him in a situation where he has no choice but to fuck you. Like, say, in a movie. And he’s this noble knight with his vows and everything. And you’re the maiden. For some reason, the survival of the world rests on you fucking. You’re willing. He’s strict about his vows but, you know, he’s all about saving the world too. So he fucks you. You fuck. Something like that.”

Brienne frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“The thing is, you’re going to have to seduce him and get him where you want him to be. If you want him to fuck you, like he’ll throw you down and fuck you, you’ll have to lead him there. What’s important is you get what you want but he thinks it’s his idea giving you what you want when it’s you pulling the strings all along. You get what I mean?”

“I think I need more wine.”


	2. Two

Right after the events in Chapter Four of The Things He Does

_This isn’t happening._

_This is so unreal._

Brienne’s head fell back on the couch, her spine arching as Jaime dragged another release from her with his lips and tongue. Her hips moved against his face, slowly, hesitantly. She threaded her fingers through his thick, golden hair as she moaned. “Jaime.”

“Brienne,” he whispered as he licked her come from her inner thighs. Biting her lip, Brienne straightened up, glad for the firm support of the couch on her back and shoulders. There was little else to do but watch him lick her as if she were an ice cream drop. Though she was warm and sweating, her body surged through a higher temperature as an image of Jaime licking an actual ice cream drop naked flashed before her eyes. 

_This man,_ she thought, brushing her knuckles against his elegant brows, his cheek, _has made me sex-crazed._

And boy, did she love it.

Okay. It was a little inconvenient because it got her body hot and it didn’t help she worked in the kitchen all day surrounded by ovens. Every little thing reminded her of Jaime, or worse, gave her ideas of what she wanted to do. Frosting a cake conjured up images of covering his sexy muscles in it and licking him clean. Going over the financials of her business at her desk had her imagining fucking right there, screaming his name as she came. And when she toned things down a bit on her head, she still thought of making out with Jaime. In the backseat of his limo. In an alley. She thought about licking bacon grease from his lips. She thought about his bright green eyes looking at her as if she was most amazing thing to walk the earth. He looked at her like that even when she was doing something as ordinary as loading the dishwasher. 

Jaime Lannister was a drug she was only privy to, and the best vice around, she had come to learn these last few weeks. He was easily the most handsome man around—wherever they went, they got stares. Brienne hated how men and women frowned at her beside him before they smiled at Jaime then frowned back at her. Yes, she knew what she looked like. She didn’t know what Jaime saw in her, what he liked about her, but for some weird reason, he liked being with her.

Not to say it was all fun times. True, he was charming and sweet, he listened to her and the way he acted with her, when they weren’t naked, made him seem like a prince straight out of a fairy tale. But he still teased her wench, he took joy in riling her up. She couldn’t understand what he liked in chocolate raisins—they were too sweet for her and just plain weird. She thought he was an indulgent, spoiled rich boy used to getting what he wanted all the time. Jaime agreed with her on all counts--he wasn't apologetic at all.

Despite these, she saw things about Jaime Lannister he probably didn’t know about himself. Though he came across as sure and bold, he was in great need of assurance. He tend to get on the bad side of people with his bluntness but she knew it was impatience on his part to get straight to the point in order to finish the job. And though he pleased her and meant it when he said he found pleasure in her pleasure, Brienne suspected it was because he needed her to be surely anchored to him. Jaime may be devil-may-care and didn’t waste his time what other people thought but people close to him were important and he worried that they would leave him. His mother of cancer when he was ten, but even before that, he told her she began to leave from the moment the doctor diagnosed her sickness. An uncle he was close to vanished in the sea. The first serious girlfriend he had, Melara Hetherspoon, died in a freak car accident. By the time Jaime was eighteen, he lost three people that had become important to him. 

Jaime rose to his knees and with a crook of his finger, had Brienne lean toward him. As they kissed, her cheeks burned. She could taste herself on his tongue, a bittersweet layer of flavour. She collapsed back on the couch, unable to hold herself upright. Yet her body still hummed as Jaime began kissing her on the shoulder, between her breasts, her navel before licking the long line of her throat. His lips hovering over her, he whispered, smiling smugly, “Tired, wench?”

Brienne looked at him. Yes, she was. But she was still tightly coiled, her body still waiting for something. It was wonderful he wanted to wait but she wanted him. Wanted him so much. He had no idea about the nights she spent alone, his scent strong from her pillows and sheets. Out of desperation and in order to calm the heat swirling in her cunt, she had begun to touch herself. 

Sansa told her to put Jaime in a position where he would have no choice but to do what she wanted. She tried that earlier. It didn’t work. As she watched him reach for her hand and press little kisses on the burn scars around her wrist, she asked, “Jaime, do you find me fuckable?”

His answer was a grin that arrowed right to her heart and her cunt. “I’ve never been so hard until you, wench.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” she told him. “I want you.”

He groaned against the skin of her wrist. _“Brienne.”_

“What? What else do you want to know about me? My bad habits? Sometimes I don’t do the laundry so I get from the hamper and just repeat the used clothes. Sometimes I don’t tip.” Brienne said. “I just. . .Jaime, I can’t think straight anymore. I think about you all the time. I want you all the time. You said the same thing. So what are we waiting for?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m like everyone else,” he told her, dropping her hand. Brienne stiffened as he let her go. Seeing her reaction, he gave her a soft smile. “Maybe we should have this discussion in clothes, wench.”

“Why? You said you like looking at me.” Brienne was surprised she said these words. Jaime, however, looked tortured. 

“Too much.” And when Jaime got to his feet, she saw the evidence of exactly how much. It was…well, big. She had to smother a laugh as he turned away, shaking his head. He put on his pants while he tossed her his shirt. “Thanks a lot,” he grumbled and she laughed louder. 

_He wants me,_ she thought, still not used to it. _He wants me, ugly face and all._

As Jaime zipped up his pants, he told her with mock sternness, “Clothes, wench. Now.”

“What happened to my shirt?” Brienne asked as she slipped her arms through the sleeves of his shirt. She didn’t notice how he licked his lips as sunlight fell on her plump nipples, didn’t hear the soft groan deep in his throat watching the muscles in her stomach rippling as she moved. When she stood up, Jaime had to clench his fists from going to her, shoving her down the couch and draping her legs on his shoulders so he could feast on her cunt again. 

“Somewhere.” Jaime picked up her shorts. “Put these on as well.”

“But my underwear---“

“There’s no need for that. You’re home, anyway. And it’s one less thing to get rid of later.” Brienne felt her stomach clench at his promise. He was going to have her again later.

Dressed now, Jaime led Brienne to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool for her and sat her down there. He pulled out one for himself. Brienne wished he had a shirt on. Jaime Lannister with his hair mussed and looking like a smug son of a bitch wearing only his muscles and jeans did not help in forming coherent thoughts. Naughty ones, yes, but not sensible ones.

“Do you want something?” Jaime asked.

Brienne grinned at him. Flushing, she said, “You.”

“You.” Jaime smiled back and kissed her. “Water?”

She nodded.

He smiled then kissed her again before he got off his seat. As he did, he spied the package he had with him when he had arrived earlier. “Insatiable wench,” he teased her, setting it on the table while he went to get her water.

Brienne took the glass he offered her, sipping half its contents before she put it on the counter. Jaime sat on the stool before her, watching her. He was looking at her that way again, as if she was doing something amazing, she thought, wishing she would stop blushing. 

Jaime took her hand and held it between both of his. “Talk to me, wench.”

In that tender, warm tone of his, Brienne realized that she would tell him everything. Her desires, secret fears—everything. It was a head rush—when had she felt this way, this compelling need to lay everything on the table without worry? 

“I know you’re doing this. . .all these things because you don’t want me to think you’re like everyone else. I want you to know I don’t think that.” Brienne told him. “You’re unlike anyone I know.”

“Well,” and he shot her that smug grin that made her hot and her stomach twist in knots and infuriated her at the same time, “there’s no one like me, wench. Only me.”

“Idiot. You know what I mean.”

“I know. I like annoying you.”

“Too much. Cut it out.”

Jaime’s eyes were brilliant emerald orbs. “Never.”

“Jaime, I—I—“ Brienne looked at her lap, her large hand still clasped between his, then at him. “I really want---I want—“Why couldn’t she say them now, when she’s said them before?

Jaime’s answer was to kiss her. Brienne gasped, still startled at the want and longing behind it, from her, from him. She tilted her head, angling so their kiss would deepen. Kissing was something she only recently started doing and so welcomed all opportunities for practice. At first she worried she frustrated Jaime—she knew she wasn’t doing it as well as she wanted but he didn’t remark on it. For that she was glad. And he was more than willing to give her practice. That he. . .enjoyed practicing with her. 

His hand cupped the back of her head while the other rubbed her jaw. Her hands remained on her lap, wanting to touch, not knowing where to touch first. A gasp flitted out of Brienne right before Jaime touched her tongue with his, a quick, wet flick. 

“I want you, Brienne Tarth, never doubt that,” Jaime told her, kissing her full on the mouth before pressing his lips to her cheek, her chin, her throat. He nipped at her jaw. “I want you so much. You’ve no idea.”

Suddenly, he jerked to his feet, the stool falling to the floor with a loud crash. Brienne was yanked o his chest and he was so hard, so solid and unyielding. “Then why?” She asked, struggling for thought. It felt like she was drowning and floating at the same time. Her nails dug in his shoulders, her breath bathed his nose. “Why won’t you—“

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“What?” Surprised, Brienne pulled away. Her eyes were dazed and her mouth was swollen, almost too big for her face. Her hands were on his chest, unaware that her fingers were pulling at the hairs too. Jaime grunted, bearing the discomfort quietly.

“Jaime, that’s ridiculous. You won’t. . .I’ll be here until you don’t want me anymore.” She didn’t mean for her words to be a near-verbatim repeat of what he’d told her earlier but they were exactly what she felt. 

“Brienne.” Worry laced his forehead. Frowning, she dropped her hands, sliding her palms down his chest as she did. How many times had she touched him? Learned the ridged plain of his chest, his abdomen? She couldn’t remember not touching him. How was the even possible? She had been alive before. But before Jaime, she knew now, she had not lived.

Brienne looked at him, unaware of her eyes’ effect on Jaime. 

“My sexy, big wench,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it deeply. He took a deep whiff of her skin, closing his eyes then opening them to look at her. “The first time. You know what happens. I’m scared of hurting you.”

“But of course I know. And you’ve been with women before. You’ve practiced. Is it. . .are you worried I might not like it?” It didn’t hurt, knowing that. Red spread across her chest, however, imagining the practice time Jaime had been involved in with other women. Beautiful, elegant women. That hurt. She wasn’t going to fault him for that. What mattered was now. He wanted her now. 

Jaime shook his head. “It’s not only that.” 

“What do you mean?” She asked, really confused now. 

For the first time since meeting him, Jaime Lannister turned pink.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before."


	3. Three

Three Days Later

“ _What?_ He won’t fuck you because you’re a virgin?”

“Fuck, Sansa! Could you be any louder? I don’t think the damn bookstore next door heard you!”

Brienne and Sansa were in the back alley of Evenstar Bakery & Café. It was the unofficial smoking area for staff though Brienne didn’t touch those lung incinerators. Right now, they had the space to themselves but they still spoke in low voices—at least, Brienne did. She glared at Sansa, who didn’t even look the slightest bit contrite.

“Don’t be silly, Bree. There’s no one here but us.” Sansa held out her burning cigarette to her. “Sure you don’t want a puff? These babies would really calm you down.”

“No! Sansa, it’s Ron Connington all over again,” Brienen groaned, running her fingers through her already-messy blond hair in frustration. “Ron told me he couldn’t take the pressure of being my first and the emotional attachment from me afterward because he wasn’t looking for anything serious. What if Jaime’s the same?”

“Have you talked since, you know, he told you?”

Actually, it wasn’t as if Jaime had dropped a bombshell at all. And Brienne slept at his place last night. Unbidden, her mind wandered to last night's action between the sheets before Jaime granted her the mercy of rest and sleep. It was pure exhaustion from coming hard that left her limp and unresisting as she started to fall asleep and he slid his fingers in her still-tender cunt. It was scandalous, shameful, but Jaime's fingers buried in her cunt was relaxing and she slept easier than before. 

She just wished Jaime would really fuck her instead of keeping her in a constant state of heat and arousal. She was exhausted from wondering, from thinking, from coming three times at minimum when with Jaime. And to make matters worse, she was helpless from the tingling sensation _down there_ Her cunt was sore in a way that felt something crucial was missing. Her underwear, thick, sensible cotton, was often damp. Well, boxers today. She had neglected to refresh her underwear supply in Jaime’s drawer and so borrowed from him, scowling over his advice to go commando. It was bloody unfair that his boxers had actually had his cock. She begged him for it last night as he pinned her on the couch and fingered her to completion. Then she woke up this morning with his tongue pushing deep in her cunt but still no cock. She almost wept for it. 

Gods. She no longer made sense now.

“Everything is normal,” Brienne told Sansa.

“Did he really say it like that? He won’t fuck you because you’re a virgin?” Sansa wanted to clarify.

“I think that’s part of it. He’s never been with a virgin before and he’s scared about hurting me.”

“Are you scared of the pain?”

“Please. I’ve been burned and scalded and deal with pain in the ass health and city inspectors regularly. That doesn’t scare me.” Brienne let out a growl. “Is it possible to be sexually frustrated when you haven’t had sex yet?”

“I’m beginning to think that normal is a myth and everything is just crazy,” Sansa admitted, taking a long drag of her cigarette. “And with what you and Jaime are doing, yes. It is very possible. Gods, you'd be dead if you're not.”

Brienne leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what to do. I thought talking to him would corner him but this is something I’ve never faced before nor expected to deal with.”

“I understand your frustration, Bree. Really, I do. But I don’t believe Jaime Is Ron Connington all over again. He did tell you he wants to take things slow because he wants you to know he’s different from all men.”

“Like he has a long list to work from.” Brienne grumbled.

“The point is, he means it. And he’s answered your questions. I guess you’ll just have to sit back and see. Though in your case, I think you’d much rather lie back and spread your legs and hope Jaime Lannister just parks his cock where he should.”

“Sansa!” Brienne protested.

Sansa blew smoke rings in her direction and Brienne waved them away. “Oh, please. That’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I don’t know how to help you. I can only listen. And watch.” Sansa winked at her and Brienne wondered why she was friends with this person.

“This is really interesting, you know,” she continued. “It’s like Jaime’s assumed the role of the woman, holding out like he’s got something precious between his legs, and you’re the guy who’s getting hornier and hornier because it’s constantly dangled to you. Jaime’s like the maiden and you’re the scoundrel. Or better yet, the knight whose sense of honour is getting shredded day by day as your maiden raises her skirts higher and higher. Jaime’s a cunt tease.”

“I still think I should put him in a position where he has no choice but to fuck me. I agree with what you said.” Brienne was strolling back and forth, hands in the pockets of her pants. “I just don’t know how to get them there. Or what situation will put them there. Any ideas?”

“What does he like in a woman?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, he clearly likes you. What does he like about you?”

“I don’t know. I haven't asked.”

“So he’s never mentioned anything he likes? Or what he thinks about women?”

“Sansa, if I’m not contemplating punching his beautiful face because he’s a smug, arrogant, ass, I’m fucking his face.” The tips of Brienne’s ears reddened.

Sansa laughed. “That’s a nice problem.”

Brienne was thoughtful. “We’ve not really talked about his exes.”

“And might I suggest, never? Don’t. Don’t ask him. If he brings them up, shut him up. Fuck him in the face.” Sansa finished her cigarette and flattened it with the heel of her shoe. When she looked up, she snapped her fingers. “I got it.”

Brienne stopped walking. “Tell me.”

“No man will say no to this, trust me.” Sansa told her. “It involves very little on the logistics side. The rest is on you. Can you do it?”

“Just tell me already. What is it?”

Sansa grinned and beckoned her to come closer.


	4. Four

One night later

Brienne had belted her trench coat tight but she forgot that below it was very loose, swingy fabric subjected to the slightest wind. Groaning under her breath, she was careful in sliding in the back of the cab, tucking the skirt of her coat tight. When she was settled, she gave the driver Jaime’s address.

When she texted Jaime about coming over, he told her he would be waiting. He doesn’t know what he’s in for, Brienne thought, grinning to herself as the cab wove through the slight evening traffic. Her purse lay in her lap. It contained her wallet, phone, keys, and a box of condoms. If Jaime thought he was just fucking her once tonight, he was seriously mistaken. It would be unrealistic to finish the entire box but, Brienne hoped, for the first time not minding her blush, they at least used half the contents. 

The cab pulled up in front of Jaime’s apartment building fifteen minutes later. Brienne paid the cab and, like before, also took care in coming out. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do in five-inch stilettos. Flats would be more comfortable and she’d be happier but they didn’t really go well with stockings. She also liked the idea that being much taller than Jaime in her shoes meant his mouth was right at the level of her breasts. 

Brienne nodded at the doorman, bowing her head quickly as she swept past him. Since she’d been at Jaime’s at random hours, the different doormen on duty knew her already. She also had the access code that led the elevator right to Jaime’s penthouse. He had given it to her the morning after she had her first orgasm. It meant a lot that he wanted to see her again and that he was also giving her permission to be a part of his life.

She got in the elevator, punched in the code and started taking deep breaths. Fuck, she was nervous.

As she stood, she heard her phone beep. Ugh, not now. Whatever it was, it was going to have to wait until morning. She wanted Jaime and she wanted him now. Anyone who got in the way was most likely to end up with a knife in his back. 

For all her determination, however, Brienne was both pale and flushed as the elevator approached his floor. Sweat gleamed from her throat and chest and she thought about removing her coat now, it was beginning to stick. “Hurry, hurry,” she muttered, looking at the numbers display above the door. Finally, the elevator dinged. She took a deep breath and entered his place.

“Jaime Lannister,” she called out, setting her purse on a table. She strode forward, her high heels clicking loudly and heavily on the marble floor. She wasn’t graceful—she was lumbering truth to be told. Taking a deep breath, she called out again, “Jaime, where are you? I’m here? Now isn’t the time to keep me waiting or hide.”

Still no answer. He wasn’t in the kitchen and she knew he wouldn’t be in his bedroom yet. Study, she thought. He was probably working. Biting her lip, she went to the room and pushed the door open. 

Jaime Lannister sat behind his massive oak desk. He wore only his shirt and his dark red tie was loosened. He looked startled at the sight of her and seemed to want to say something but she held up a hand to silence him.

“I’m done waiting, Jaime,” she said, looking at him, looking in his eyes and hoping her voice wasn’t shaking—her hands certainly were. “I’ve waited and begged, told you I want you, I need you. I won’t be denied anymore,” she continued, unknotting the belt of her coat. Free at last, she yanked her coat off and dropped it to the floor.

The expression on Jaime’s face was priceless. Brienne smirked, enjoying the shock in his face as he took in her bare skin, her naked breasts with nipples tight from the cool air outside, the wide span of her firm waist. He visibly swallowed when he realized that she wore only a black garter belt, stockings and stilettos. He took a loud, heavy intake of breath at the sight of her bare cunt, the pale blond curls dark with the dew of her hunger for him. 

Brienne threw her shoulders back and pointed at him. “I’ve come here for your cock, Jaime Lannister. If you won’t give it to me, I will fuck you.” 

Jaime shook his head, his emerald eyes big and—did he look panicked? “Brienne, gods—“ his voice broke and he looked at something to his left, on her right. Brienne’s eyes widened too, realizing that they weren’t alone in the room.

“Good evening,” a deep, measured voice spoke from her right. “We haven’t met. I’m Tywin Lannister, Jaime’s father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't put Tywin Lannister in the character tags because that would ruin the surprise. :-)

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't put Tywin in the character tags because that would ruin the surprise.


End file.
